


The Account of Jade, sole survivor of the L.R.S. Queen Fara:

by JadeTheThief



Category: Dice Funk Podcast D&D Campaign
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-07 01:14:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18862753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeTheThief/pseuds/JadeTheThief
Summary: The first Jade fic set in the Dice Funk universe, written to take place in season 2 Lorelei....The joke is that "So Crab, So Good" was a restaurant that became a fandom meme.





	The Account of Jade, sole survivor of the L.R.S. Queen Fara:

When the flood waters reached the town square, I knew I had to leave. An employee at Glittergold owed me a favor and agreed to look the other way as I stowed in the cargo hold of the Queen Fara. I had with me a small pack of provisions, my thief’s tools, and my trusty gold-hilted dagger. The town’s remaining wealthy elite were also aboard, comfortable and safe in their lush cabins, preparing to cut all ties to the people of Gerwood who toiled to provide their fortunes, leaving them all to a watery fate. Bastards.  
I had never been on an airship, so my breakfast was sadly spewed across the floor as the ship took flight. After a day of rest, I found my bearings, and through careful nightly scoutings I mapped out the lower deck.   
I discovered a woman occupying a cabin near the hold. Her height and build were similar to mine, though her skin was far paler, having never spent more than an hour under Lorelei’s harsh sun. Still, she appeared to be lacking in social connections, and therefore would not be missed.  
Upon nightfall, after the gnomish patrols passed, I picked the lock, slipping silently into the room. It seemed a shame to ruin such a nice suit with so much blood, but I saw she had packed well, so I could easily find a replacement. It was, at the very least, a nice suit to die in.  
Dumping the body out the porthole (we had ascended too far to hear the splash), I mopped up the rest of the blood, threw out the rags, and made myself at home.

Entry 2:  
Rested and well nourished, I sorted through the dead woman’s wardrobe, finding a long-tailed, deep green frock coat that suited me well. Some dress pants and a pair of spectacles completed my disguise, though I kept my light thief attire on underneath. The rich don’t know how to dress for action.  
Making my way to a gala dinner on the upper deck, I sampled the wine and fine cheeses, milling around for pockets to pick. A man in a dapper suit approached me, accompanied by two young ladies, and greeted me.  
“Hullo there! I don’t believe we’ve met.” He extended a hand.  
“I don’t believe we have,” I replied, shaking the hand. “Dr. Jade, Professor of Inquiry.”  
“Inquiry? Fascinating.” He mused. “Just what is it you inquire about?”  
“Oh, you know.” I shrugged nonchalantly. “Life, the universe, everything.”  
“Ah, so a philosopher, then?”  
“In a way, I suppose. Dull stuff, really, but I enjoy it.” This conversation was boring the piss out of me, but it seemed to set him at ease.  
Out of the corner of my eye, I spied a worried-looking gnome conversing with a man who must be the ship’s captain. The captain wore a stern expression and nodded curtly to the gnome, then looked to the group, raising a glass and tapping it with a spoon.  
“Attention, guests of the Queen Fara,” he spoke with authority. “I request that you all return to your rooms. We’re experiencing a bit of engine trouble at the moment and expect some mild turbulence could occur. Repairs are underway and dinner will resume in a few hours.”  
Shit. Not even one pocket picked. I didn’t think the night could get any worse.

Entry 3:  
Until the ship crashed. Mild turbulence, my ass.  
Hurrying up from the lower deck, I boarded a lifeboat with a few other survivors, paddling quickly as the Queen Fara sank behind us.  
There were six others aboard, four men and two women. I didn’t learn their names, nor did I care to. For the purposes of narrative, let’s call them “Bowtie”, “Big Nose”, “Skunk”, “Frills”, “Hair Piece”, and “Whiny Bitch.” I believe the names are self-explanatory, except perhaps Skunk, who shat himself when the engines exploded.  
Our course was illuminated by the light of the full moon, which would have made for a romantic scene if not for Skunk. Big Nose and Hair Piece bickered like a pair of overgrown toddlers, each feeling he deserved to be in charge of our “team.” Frills, an old and hateful woman, seemed smug and self-satisfied, content to sit in the back and let us younger peons do the rowing. Whiny Bitch, separated from her rich father, rowed only begrudgingly, insistent that she would never have to do so if “daddy” were here.  
Bowtie was perhaps the only one I didn’t hate. A mild professor-type, he rowed without complaint and seemed to be the kind of person I was pretending to be.  
We kept within sight of the other boats, moving generally in the same direction, though none of us knew where we were going.

Entry 4:  
At about noon the following day, we spied land on the horizon. As the flood waters had made all past charts nearly irrelevant, we could not identify the island, but it appeared to be rocky and heavily forested with pine trees.  
Upon landfall, Whiny Bitch sprang from the ship, desperate to escape the thought of menial labor. The passengers on the other lifeboats were gathering in a small camp as the captain led efforts to bring the boats inland, constructing small shelters with them.   
Personally, I felt my time would be better spent exploring the island. Knife at the ready, I cut notches in the trees I passed, leaving a trail for myself to follow back to the camp. I found a few berry bushes, but nothing substantial in the way of food. As I approached the far side of the island, though, I began to smell the scent of cooked seafood.  
Careful to keep behind the cover of trees, I approached what appeared to be a primitive village: a circle of thatched huts, bordered on the coastal side by a wall made of thick logs with sharpened ends. At the village center stood a stone statue carved into the shape of a crab-like, crustacean monstrosity. Adorned with necklaces made of bone fragments, the statue’s eyes stared menacingly downward, its thick claws held aloft.  
At the sound of a rhythmic drumbeat, I ducked for cover behind a bush, watching as villagers dressed in masks and armor made from crustacean shells emerged from their huts. A group of them, led by a shaman-like figure, began a ritual dance around the statue, chanting in some foreign tongue.  
“I’a Cruustos! I’a bueno!”  
They danced wildly, waving some sort of wooden utensils. I half expected the statue to move, brought to life by their increasingly frenzied chants.  
“I’A CRUUSTOS! I’A BUENO!”  
Suddenly, a cry went out and the warriors all turned southward. I turned as well, spying the smoke from the captain’s campfire.  
“Damn fools…” I muttered.

Entry 5:  
Following at a distance, I watched as the warriors stormed through the camp. Shrieks of terror went up as they swung their wooden mallets, shattering skulls while shouting their demonic cry.  
“CRUUSTOS! BUENO! CRUUSTOS! BUENO!”  
Seeing Whiny Bitch take a hammer to the face was particularly satisfying (I know, I’m terrible), but the carnage and broken bones turned my stomach. Creeping away, I made for the shoreline, hoping to wait out the assault, steal a boat, and strike out to sea once again. Of course, I’d have to stop to loot all those rich assholes first…  
Waves crashed against the rocks behind me, blasting sea foam upward. Normally, I’d have taken no notice of this, but it was accompanied by a low rumble and a soft clicking sound. A shadow moved out at sea, approaching the site of the massacre. I can’t explain why, but the closer it got, the more I felt my skin crawl and my head spin.  
Losing balance, I fell to my hands and knees, looking up in terror as a monstrous crustacean emerged, claws clacking with deafening ferocity. I don’t know how long I lay there, unable to look away as it consumed the other passengers, stripping their flesh away with its wicked claws and devouring them with its vile mandibles.  
By nightfall, everyone was gone, and I managed to find a ship and escape to sea. But the images of that day will be burned into my mind forever.  
And the clacking. That horrible clacking!!


End file.
